


Mid-Life Crisis

by dastiel_gal (rock_chick), rock_chick



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-22
Updated: 2011-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rock_chick/pseuds/dastiel_gal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rock_chick/pseuds/rock_chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It may have snuck up on him unexpectedly in his forties, to smack him upside the head and smash his sexual identity into incomprehensible shards, but my God, Jeff wants this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mid-Life Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://anifsemaj.livejournal.com/profile)[**anifsemaj**](http://anifsemaj.livejournal.com/) at the Jeff/Jensen comment fic meme [here](http://mysticwaters.livejournal.com/99378.html?thread=1491506#t1491506) for the prompt _dom!Jensen/sub!Jeff. Established relationship or first time, Jensen's an experienced Dom._

Jeff sucks in a deep breath, trying to stem the tide of panic rising in his chest. This was a bad idea, a terrible, bad, no-good idea. What was he thinking? He doesn't want this. Except, murmurs his traitorous mind, you _do_ want this. It may have snuck up on you unexpectedly in your forties, to smack you upside the head and smash your sexual identity into incomprehensible shards, but my God, man, you want this. Why else is your cock so damn hard?

He shifts uncomfortably, muscles complaining about the unfamiliar posture, kneeling with his thighs spread, and Christ - that's just one more thing freaking him out. Spread out wide, cock and balls on display, stripped and vulnerable like he's never been before. Jensen is somewhere behind him, can't see those parts of him right this second, but Jeff feels more naked than he's ever been, even though Jensen has seen everything he's got a couple dozen times by now.

What the ever-loving _fuck_ is Jensen doing, anyway? He'd given his orders, voice deep and sure. _Strip, Jeff, all the way down. Kneel for me. Legs spread, wider, baby, a little more. That's it. Back straight. Arms behind you. There we go; is that okay, or are the cuffs pinching your wrists? Good. Head up, now. Can you see anything? Good boy. Relax. Breathe._ And then he'd stepped back, melted away into silent invisibility, leaving Jeff kneeling blindfolded and cuffed. How long has it been? Dammit, is he even still _in_ the room? Jeff's mind knows Jensen wouldn't abandon him like this, but his body doesn't believe it. He feels terror growing in him, racing wild around his head and icy through his veins. It's ridiculous; a grown man in his own bedroom with his sweet Jensen, and yet he's a second away from blind panic. He tries to fight down the shameful sob that's rising in his throat, and then he hears it, a single calm word thrown to him like a lifebelt in a stormy sea. _Breathe._

He clings to it, obeys it gratefully, pulls air into his lungs. He'd been so wrapped up in his mindfuck that he hadn't even realized he'd stopped breathing. A few more deep inhalations and he feels the fear receding. Jensen is still there. He didn't leave. He's right there, keeping watch over Jeff. It will be okay. Jensen will make it all okay.

He hears the whisper of fabric and feels a faint glow of body heat as Jensen steps up behind him. _That's it, baby. You're doing so well. We're going to start now._


End file.
